The following is an article that I recently ran across that I thought was interesting.There are some definite references to religion in it.While I appreciate Capt.Gardiners efforts to spread the Gospel,others may find the text offensive.Please don't read any futher if you think you might be offended. Thanks! -Stede-

Allen Gardiner, leader of those who perished bringing the gospel to Patagonia.

When Charles Darwin sailed in the Beagle he observed the Indians of Tierra del Fuego. They lived in absolute squalor and savagery. The naturalist pronounced them beyond all possibility of civilization. Captain Allen Gardiner also sailed those seas on a mapping expedition. His heart told him these poor, degraded people needed help.

Gardiner had rejected the gospel as a young man. What changed his mind? During his navy years, he observed the miserable lives of idolaters. Buddhism proved to be an empty religion. He remembered his spiritual upbringing and decided there was something to his mother's faith after all. His chief desire became to tell others about the Gospel.

He preached the gospel in Tahiti and South Africa (where he founded Durban). In Chile, he backpacked over a 1,000 miles, handing out tracts, but was rejected as an enemy. The same was true in Indonesia. In 1850, he shifted his attention to the Yagan Indians of Patagonia, the ones Darwin said couldn't be civilized.

Was Darwin right? It certainly seemed so. Gardiner's missionary party, in two small boats, landed in Patagonia, hoping to locate "Jimmy Button", a Yagan who knew some English from previous captivity. But in various encounters, the Indians drove Gardiner and his assistants away, chasing them in canoes from Picton Island. The mission team could only flee, for they would not defend themselves with their guns. They wanted to rescuelost souls, not plunge them into eternity before they could hear about the gospel.

After leaving England, Gardiner wrote in his journal, "Nothing can exceed the cheerful endurance and unanimity of the whole party . . . I feel that the Lord is with us, and cannot doubt that He will own and bless the work He permitted us to begin."

When they attempted to land in southwest Tierra del Fuego, they wrecked one of their two little boats, the Pioneer, on the rocks. They sheltered in the other at a cove called Spanish Harbour. Becoming sick, they sailed back to Picton Island. At Banner Cove they buried a message beneath a great boulder and painted a message on it: "Dig here below. Go to Spanish Harbour. March 1851." They hoped their supply ship would see the writing on the rock and dig for the message they had buried in a bottle.

In October, 1851, a British ship read the message and found three of the missionaries dead. They buried them but did not find Captain Gardiner and his friend Maidment. The ship had to beat a hasty retreat because of a brewing storm. The admiralty ordered H.M.S. Dido to investigate. On this day, January 19, 1852, the Dido, following the messages left at Banner Cove, found Captain Gardiner and Maidment dead near the wrecked boat Pioneer. Gardiner's diary was in his hand. Its last lines, written on the 6th of September were: "By Grace this blessed group was able to sing praises for eternity. I am not hungry or thirsty in spite of 5 days without eating; Wonderful Grace and Love to me, a sinner..."

Following is a classic example of a miracle, related -- strange to say -- to Charles Darwin:

On his 1831 voyage around the world on the Beagle, the well-known naturalist observed the aborigines of Tierra del Fuego, situated off the southern tip of South America. This tribal people Darwin dubbed as "the missing link" between man and monkey and declared them incapable or moral discernment.
Later a converted British naval officer, Captain Allen Gardiner , worked as a missionary among these aborigines. Such was the change in these darkened souls that Darwin himself was astonished and, in appreciation of Gardiner's work, sent a donation to the South American Missionary Society and asked to be made an honorary member!

Among the myths incorporated by Gabriel Garcia Mirquez in his novel One Hundred Years of Solitude, an explanation of great Latin-American truths in narrative clothing, is a Colombian folk-memory. Apparently, when Drake attacked Riohacha, one lady was so startled by the cannon's roar that she sat down on a hot stove. The results were lasting, and distressing: a limp, an inability to sit up straight, and a permanent aversion to sex.

The Spray's good luck followed fast. I discovered, as she sailed along through a labyrinth of islands, that she was in the Cockburn Channel, which leads into the Strait of Magellan at a point opposite Cape Froward, and that she was already passing Thieves' Bay, suggestively named. And at night, March 8, behold, she was at anchor in a snug cove at the Turn! Every heartbeat on the Spray now counted thanks.

Here I pondered on the events of the last few days, and, strangely enough, instead of feeling rested from sitting or lying down, I now began to feel jaded and worn; but a hot meal of venison stew soon put me right, so that I could sleep. As drowsiness came on I sprinkled the deck with tacks, and then I turned in, bearing in mind the advice of my old friend Samblich that I was not to step on them myself. I saw to it that not a few of them stood "business end" up; for when the Spray passed Thieves' Bay two canoes had put out and followed in her wake, and there was no disguising the fact any longer that I was alone.

Now, it is well known that one cannot step on a tack without saying something about it. A pretty good Christian will whistle when he steps on the "commercial end" of a carpet-tack; a savage will howl and claw the air, and that was just what happened that night about twelve o'clock, while I was asleep in the cabin, where the savages thought they "had me," sloop and all, but changed their minds when they stepped on deck, for then they thought that I or somebody else had them. I had no need of a dog; they howled like a pack of hounds. I had hardly use for a gun. They jumped pell-mell, some into their canoes and some into the sea, to cool off, I suppose, and there was a deal of free language over it as they went. I fired several guns when I came on deck, to let the rascals know that I was home, and then I turned in again, feeling sure I should not be disturbed any more by people who left in so great a hurry.

Morgan controlled both the city of Maracaibo, and all the ships. Meanwhile Don Alonso was marooned in his little fort but controlled the only exit the buccaneers had. The Spanish citizens now agreed to pay a ransom of 20,000 pesos (pieces of eight) to save their city from being torched by the buccaneers. But Don Alonso refused to agree with his compatriots and let the pirates get away. Morgan's men meanwhile busied themselves raising the gold which had sunk with the stubborn Spaniard's great warship, bringing in yet another 15,000 pieces of eight and more in plate gold. Then in a strike of genius Morgan began to fake landing his troops close to Don Alonso's fort for a night attack. (the pirates sat upright when being rowed landward and lay flat and out of sight, when the "empty" boats were rowed back to pick up "some more" pirates.) Thus convinced he was about to be attacked with canoes from landward, Don Alonso moved all his guns to the landward side of the fort and Morgan cheekily set sail and with the ebbtide slipped out of the now unguarded channel of the Lagoon. Leaving his seething enemy behind him, the cunning rogue sailed back for Port Royal where he arrived in triumph on 17th May 1669. (Poor Don Alonso was at first arrested and deported to Spain for questioning. But there he was cleared and deservedly commended for his bravery.)

The following text was taken from the Bible. While I appreciate the Apostle Paul's efforts to spread the Gospel, others may find the text offensive. Please don't read any further if you think you might be offended. Thanks! -Stede-

The Storm - Acts 27:13-26

When a gentle south wind began to blow, they thought they had obtained what they wanted; so they weighed anchor and sailed along the shore of Crete. Before very long, a wind of a hurricane force, called the “northeaster,” swept down from the island. The ship was caught by the storm and could not head into the wind; so we gave way to it and were driven along. As we passed to the lee of a small island called Cauda, we were hardly able to make the life-boat secure.

When the men had hoisted it aboard, they passed ropes under the ship itself to hold it together. Fearing that they would run aground on the sandbars of Syrtis, they lowered the sea anchor and let the ship be driven along. We took such a violent battering from the storm that the next day they began to throw the cargo overboard. On the third day, they threw the ship’s tackle overboard with their own hands. When neither sun nor stars appeared for many days and the storm continued raging, we finally gave up all hope of being saved.

After the men had gone a long time without food, Paul stood up before them and said “ Men, you should have taken my advice not to sail from Crete; then you would have spared yourselves this damage and loss. But now I urge you to keep up your courage, because not one of you will be lost; only the ship will be destroyed. Last night an angel of the God whose I am and whom I serve stood beside me and said, “Do not be afraid, Paul. You must stand trial before Ceasar; and God has graciously given you the lives of all that sail with you.” So keep up your courage, men, for I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me. Nevertheless, we must run aground on some island.

On the fourteenth night we were still being driven across the Adriatic Sea, when about midnight the sailors sensed they were approaching land. They took soundings and found that the water was a hundred and twenty feet deep. A short time later they took soundings again and found it was ninety feet deep. Fearing that we would be dashed against the rocks, they dropped four anchors from the stern and prayed for daylight. In an attempt to escape from the ship, the sailors let the lifeboat down into the sea, pretending they were going to lower some anchors from the bow. Then Paul said to the centurion and the soldiers, “Unless these men stay with the ship, you cannot be saved.” So the soldiers cut the ropes that held the lifeboat and let it fall away.

Just before dawn Paul urged them all to eat. “For the last fourteen days,” he said, “you haven’t eaten anything. Now I urge you to take some food. You need it to survive. Not one of you will lose a single hair from his head.” After he said this, he took some bread and gave thanks to God in front of them all. Then he broke it and began to eat. They were all encouraged and ate some food themselves. Altogether there were 276 of us on board. When they had eaten as much as they wanted, they lightened the ship by throwing the grain into the sea.

When daylight came, they did not recognize the land, but they saw a bay with a sandy beach, where they decided to run the ship aground if they could. Cutting loose the anchors, they left them in the sea and at the same time untied the ropes that held the rudders. Then they hoisted the foresail to the wind and made for the beach. But the ship struck a sandbar and ran aground. The bow stuck fast and would not move, and the stern was broken into pieces by the pounding surf.

The soldiers planned to kill the prisoners to prevent any of them from swimming away and escaping. But the centurion wanted to spare Paul’ life and kept them from carrying out their plan. He ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and get to land. The rest were to get there on planks or on pieces of the ship. In this way everyone reached land in safety.

On 5 December 1914 Shackleton's ship Endurance sailed south from South Georgia with 28 men on board, heading into the unknown. In January 1915, far south in the Weddell Sea, Endurance was beset in the pack-ice. She drifted slowly north for 10 months through the Winter night, until Spring came, but she was crushed in October. They camped on the ice, and salvaged what they could over the next month, but Endurance finally sank on 21 November 1915. Shackleton's men camped on the ice, after vainly trying to manhaul the boats north. Five months later, their drifting camp reached the fringe of the pack, and on 9 April 1916 they took to their three little open boats. Rowing and sailing through loose pack, with bad weather, and temperatures 10-30 below freezing, they fought for a week, and finally landed on the precipitous northeastern tip of Elephant Island, deliriously happy to reach land after 16 months. But the tiny beach under the cliffs at Cape Valentine was unsafe, and already the next day they sailed to find a safer beach some hours west.

They decked over their largest boat (the 22ft James Caird, named after their principle sponsor) and on 24 April, Shackleton with 4 others sailed her for South Georgia, to seek help. Winter had begun, and the 800 mile journey through the roughest ocean in the world took 16 days. They found South Georgia in a storm, and had to land on the "wrong" side of that mountainous, icy island. With a carpenters adze for an ice-axe, Shackleton, Worsley 8c Crean made the first crossing of South Georgia, in 30 hours, without sleep. They walked into the whaling station at Stromness early on 20 May 1916. With no word since 1914, the world had long ago assumed them all dead, and the Norwegian whalers thought they were ghosts walking off the mountain.

The 22 men left on Elephant Island lived through the winter, under the two smaller boats at Point Wild, named after their leader, Frank Wild. At his fourth attempt Shackleton finally rescued them on 30 August 1916, in the Chilean ship Yelcho. They greeted him shouting: "All safe! All well!". The whole expedition was one of the greatest epics of courage and endurance. Not one of Shackleton's 28 men had been lost.

Three whale-boats and the yawl,with a party of twenty-eight,started under the command of Captain Fitz Roy.In the afternoon we entered the eastern mouth of the channel,and shortly afterwards found a snug little cove concealed by some surrounding islets.Here we pitched our tents and lighted our fires.Nothing could look more comfortable than this scene.The glassy water of the little harbour,with the branches of the trees hanging over the rocky beach,the boats at anchor,the tents supported by the crossed oars,and the smoke curling up the wooded valley,formed a picture of quiet retirement.